learning curve
by wolfypuppypiles
Summary: Written for a prompt sent to me on Tumblr: I was wondering if you could write a fic where peter is sick during a battle with tony, and then he gets really hurt because he's not fighting well? Peter needs to learn to be honest with Tony, and Tony needs to learn there's more to being a father figure than anger.


"Peter, your fever is getting higher. I think we should inform Mr Stark now."

The teenager panted as he swung up to a window ledge, and paused there for a moment as he grumbled to his suit. "No, Karen. I'm fine, shut up."

"But you aren't feeling well. Mr Stark will want to know."

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it would only make his sore head worse. He had been feeling crap all day but he had things to do. Mr Stark had asked him to come along on a mission with him, and that wasn't something Peter wanted to miss out on.

Tony had been taking him out on more training missions, so that he could earn the privilege of his suits full capabilities, and so he was being taught how to properly use them. Tony had wanted to just turn the training wheels protocol back on but Peter said he'd miss Karen too much.

She wasn't being very helpful now though, constantly asking him if he was all right, and telling him he should just go to bed. And in reality, he actually wanted to follow her advice, he would love a nap, but he knew that he should keep going and push through the pain.

So, taking a moment for his vision to stop blurring, he took off swinging again, to help Mr Stark fight off the gang members they'd tracked to an old warehouse.

There were a lot of them, but Tony was already taking down their most dangerous members, while Peter used his webs to take their weapons away and tie them up. Only, it was getting really hard to concentrate, and all his swinging around was making his vision blur and his stomach clench.

Peter quickly slipped to the ground, and held his stomach, groaning as he tried not to be sick. Karen's voice came again, her tone calm despite the situation.

"You cannot vomit with the mask on."

"I know that, I'm not going to." Peter wasn't usually so rude to her, but she was being very unhelpful and he barely managed to get out his groan before he was gagging.

Tony flew down beside him, tossing a tied up bad guy on the ground as his metal boots clanked against the concrete.

"You good?"

Peter attempted to stand up straight and gave his mentor a thumb up as he nodded unable to speak just yet. His senses were usually pretty good, but feeling as crap as he did made it hard to focus, and he didn't know there was anyone behind him until Tony jumped, and lifted one of his arms, hand lighting up.

Peter ducked just in time for the light beam to fry the person behind him, and quickly rolled to the side, jumping to his feet in time to get punched in the face by some other gangster.

His head snapped to the side as his world went white, sound coming muffled and warped as he stumbled, trying to stay on his feet. Another fist came, this time landing at his stomach, and he doubled over, falling to his knees.

Peter groaned in pain but lifted a hand as he saw a boot coming towards his face, sending a web to blind the guy before his foot landed. The man yelled profanities as he tried to tear the webs away from his face, and Peter was about to grab his hands and tie them before a kick landed in the middle of his back, sending him sprawling to the ground.

His stomach lurched uncomfortably as he tried not to throw up, while he twisted on the ground to face the man that kicked him. He desperately tried to throw webs at his attacker, but there were more of them now, and their boots came down on him hard.

He quickly drew his hand to his chest as some of his fingers were broken, the other arm cradling his head and protecting it as much as he could while he curled on the ground, kick after kick striking his shivering frame.

Karen was listing his injuries as they occurred, and Peter let out a cry of pain as one kick landed in his face, over his cheek.

"Concussion detected. Multiple breaks detected. You have sustained internal injuries. Do you need help, Peter?"

Peter groaned in response, trying to crawl away from the boots attacking him, only to be grabbed and hauled to his feet. He couldn't open his eyes without the world spinning, so squinted instead and tried to push the man away from him, only to be shaken harshly.

The gang member's voice was low and guttural, and Peter shivered, turning his head away as he was growled at.

"I'm gonna skin you alive."

Peter was stronger than other people, and definitely stronger than the man holding him, but he felt awful, body shaking and bruised and he felt weaker than he ever had since he was bitten and given his powers. He couldn't fight these guys off.

He should have taken Karen's advice and stayed home.

The man's hands tightened on Peter's arms, squeezing hard enough to make the teenager whine in pain, as his hands continued to scrabble at his chest, doing his best to push the man away. That voice came again, laced with cruel humour.

"You know, for a superhero, you're pretty pathetic."

Peter swallowed his nausea, and prepared for more pain, when a more familiar voice came from behind him.

"Drop the Spider, or I'll blast a hole right through your knee caps and take him from you." Tony wasn't usually so violent, but the thug had his kid, and that just wouldn't stand.

Peter whimpered as he was dropped to the ground, barely catching himself on his feet before crumpling to the concrete as Tony took out the last of the gang members.

Peter wanted to help, he wanted to get up and keep going, and tell Mr Stark he was fine. But his head hurt so bad, and he was too cold, whole body shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself and limped away from the fight.

Every part of him ached, and moving hurt so badly he just wanted to lie down, preferably in a soft bed and not on the damp sidewalk.

He ignored the sounds of the fight, as Tony took care of the last of them, and tried to compose himself, pulling off his mask to try and breathe easier.

When the fight was done, Tony came over and patted a hand on the teenager's shoulder, making him flinch.

"Hey, Spider-kid. You okay? They got a couple good hits in, huh?"

Peter kept his head low, nodding as he tried not to cry in front of his hero. He already felt pathetic, he didn't need Tony to think he was too.

Tony noticed when he refused to look at him, and came around to stand in front of the teenager, stepping out of his suit, and leaving it on sentry duty as he took Peter's arm.

"Hey, what's going on? You haven't said a word, is everything okay?"

Peter ducked his head, trying to keep Tony from seeing the bruises he could feel forming over his face, and the tears in his eyes. His voice was wobbly and small as he spoke.

"I'm fine."

Tony frowned and pulled the kid back to him, placing a hand under his chin to lift his face.

"Peter, stop. Don't lie to me. Let me see."

Peter kept his eyes closed but he could hear the small sigh as the older man saw the damage. "Dammit."

There were bruises blooming across the kids face, in the shapes of boots and fists, including a rather heavy one across his cheek bone, making the whole side of his face swell.

Tony's fingers gently pressed around Peter's eye, apologising when he hissed in pain. It looked bad, but the kid always healed fast, so he wasn't too worried. He let go and patted the kid on the shoulder again.

"They didn't get your eye, you're fine. Let's get back, I told your Aunt I'd have you home before eleven and we all know how she-."

He stopped mid-sentence, when he heard a sniff and then a whimper. He turned back around to see Peter, head low and face crumpling as he started to cry.

"Peter?"

The teenager didn't want to cry but he couldn't hold it back anymore. He let out a sob as tears fell and rolled down his bruises. "I don't feel so good."

Tony was dumbfounded. He'd seen Peter thrown through buildings and smacked around by giant aliens, and he'd always gotten right back up and kept fighting, even when he probably shouldn't have. But a couple of normal guys had been able to rough him up so bad he was crying?

Tony watched, frozen, as Peter wiped at his eyes, sobs tearing up his throat as he shivered and tried to keep standing.

He'd never been good at comforting people, not even Pepper, but this kid, god he made it hard to stare and do nothing.

Tony quickly took Peter's arm and led him over to some steps and sat him down, away from the crime scene where cops would be arriving soon, and spoke quietly.

"Peter, it's okay, you'll be all right. Friday, give me his vitals."

The calm, kind voice, rattled off a bunch of numbers and words that Peter didn't really understand but it made Tony frown and place a palm on the teenager's forehead.

"That's way too high, why do you have a fever? God, you're burning up. How long have you had this?"

Peter just sniffled and leant into Tony's touch as he brushed back his hair, that cool hand feeling amazing. This time, it was Karen who answered.

"He has had a fever since ten this morning, which became progressively worse over the course of the day. Would you like me to list his symptoms and injuries?"

Tony took his hand back, and brushed his calloused fingers over Peter's cheeks to catch a few stray tears.

"Yes."

"Peter is suffering from a fever of 104 degrees, a mild concussion, two broken ribs, three broken fingers, minor internal bleeding, and-"

Her pleasant, caring voice, was cut off abruptly by Peter as he leant forwards and threw up onto the concrete. Tears rolled down his face as his whole body throbbed, head feeling like a strobe light of pain was going off and on and off and on, inside it.

Tony winced in sympathy as Peter let out another sob, spitting out the last of the horrible taste, while Karen finished her sentence.

"-And nausea."

The older man rubbed a hand over Peter's back, and brushed his hair away from his face. "Thank you, Karen. Peter, I'm going to get my suit back on and I'll take you to the compound so Bruce can take a look at you okay?"

Peter usually protested being sent to the compound, he didn't like to be fussed over and preferred to wave off injuries with the reassurance that he healed quick. So, when he only nodded and curled tighter into himself, Tony knew that he must really feel awful.

Tony's hand leaves Peter's back and he sniffed pathetically, instantly missing the comforting touch. Tony wasn't touchy feely often and it had felt nice to be cared for, but he also sounded mad and Peter didn't want to test his temper.

He could hear the mechanical whir and clank of Tony putting his suit back on, as he talked to someone on the phone.

"Hey….yeah they're all taken care of but Peter's not doing so good, I need you in the med bay with a bed for him. I'll have Karen send over his info, see you in a bit."

As much as he wanted to be in a bed, Peter didn't actually want to move. He never wanted to move again, but Tony came walking over in his suit, and gently slipped one arm around his back and the other under his legs, picking him up as Peter curled to his chest.

"Hang on, kid."

It was a thankfully, short flight, and they quickly arrived at the Avengers compound flying in through an open door to be greeted by Bruce Banner. Tony lay Peter down in the waiting bed, and stepped out of his suit as Bruce tapped at a screen next to the bed, displaying all of Peter's vitals and information as Karen sent it from the suit.

Numbers and lines appeared across the screen, telling the man that the teenagers heart rate and fever were both too high. He frowned and came to stand next to the bed, looking down at the kid as he curled into a ball and shivered.

He shone a light on the kid's eyes, as Tony held his hands down to stop him swiping at the pen light. Bruce's words were clipped and officiant.

"What happened?"

Tony sounded angry, teeth clenched tight as he spoke, while Peter tried to squirm away from the light burning holes in his eyes.

"Gang members gave him a beating, and apparently he's had a fever since this morning, which he neglected to tell me." It was hard to tell if the heat in his tone was for Peter or a result of the criminals beating up his kid. Peter guessed, but hoped it wasn't, both.

Bruce placed a hand on that clammy forehead and put the penlight away, tapping at the screen beside him before smiling down at the teenager.

"Hey, Pete, you not feeling too good huh?"

The teenager sniffed again and shook his head, wiping his eyes with his good hand as he held his other to his chest. Bruce noticed and held out a hand.

"Can I see?"

Peter didn't like doctors, and he already felt like crap, he didn't want anyone touching his already sore fingers, but Tony was standing at the end of the bed, watching them with crossed arms and he knew he was in enough trouble as it was.

He nodded and hesitantly offered the man his shaking hand, broken fingers curled and swollen within his suit. Bruce was gentler than Peter had expected, and carefully extended and pressed Peter's fingers, for just a moment before adjusting his glasses and gesturing to Tony.

"Help me get his suit off."

Tony came over, face a mask of indifference as he helped Bruce peel the top half of Peter's suit from his clammy skin. Peter watched his face, and it hurt to see him look as if he didn't care, but he knew it was only because he was worried and was trying not to panic. Which, actually was worse.

Once the suit was out of the way, Bruce carefully eased Peter down to lay flat on the bed, before giving him an ice pack to hold in his sore fingers. His face was pinched in concentration, but calm, as he worked, pressing down on Peter's stomach, and tracing his ribs, checking every injury with expert precision, and a patience that Tony lacked as he paced at the end of the bed.

"Tony, sit down. Peter, take a deep breath and tell me if this hurts."

Peter had been feeling like crap all day, and then the fight had made it all worse, but Bruce knew what he was doing and the med bay was quiet and calm, lights dimmed in the way that they always were when Peter was there. It made him feel a little better, now that he didn't have to worry, he could just lay still and let someone take care of him.

Once done with his examination, Bruce splinted Peter's fingers, laid a few ice packs over him, and gave him some water with a few pills.

"This will help the pain and fever, till you heal, which may take a little longer than usual because your immune system is already dealing with a lot. I'm going to get a few scans, just so I can make sure everything's okay with that cheek, and the concussion, we'll have to take your suit off but it'll only take about ten minutes."

Tony helped again, laying a blanket over Peter before pulling off the rest of the suit and handing the kid some sweat pants.

Bruce pulled a machine or two over, swivelling the big contraptions over the bed and laying the teenager down again, adjusting the ice packs over the heaviest bruises, before taking Tony out to watch the scans develop on the screens in the other room.

They stood there, watching Peter through the window, as Tony crossed his arms and clenched his teeth.

Bruce sighed. "I know you want to yell at him, but now's probably not a good time."

Tony didn't hesitate, releasing all the words he'd been holding inside at once.

"He's had a fever since this morning and he didn't tell me, and now he's hurt because he couldn't fight off a few guys by himself. He can't just lie to me like that, I asked him if he was up for a mission and he said he was! What if something worse had happened to him? What if I hadn't been there?"

Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. "He's going to be fine, Tony."

The other man rubbed a hand over his face, feeling as if every nerve was stretched thin. God this kid would be the death of him.

"What am I supposed to do with him?"

Bruce's voice was gentle, knowing how hard the whole situation was for Tony. He hadn't had the best father figure, and been a reckless kid well into his adulthood, and had suddenly become like an adoptive father to a scrawny, genius kid with superpowers. It wasn't exactly easy.

"Maybe don't be so hard on him? You expect a lot from him, and he doesn't want to let you down. He's not even legally old enough to vote or drink yet, you can't expect him to make the right decision all the time. He's still learning about all this stuff, just be there when he needs you and let him make mistakes. If you get mad every time, he'll stop telling you about them, and that's worse."

Tony sighed and gave the man a smile. "When did you get so wise?"

Bruce let out a small laugh. "Somewhere around the time you became a parent? Never thought I'd see the day, but…here we are."

Tony looked back through the window, where Peter was laying as still as he could, but unable to stop the tremors the fever caused.

"Yeah. Here we are."

Once the scans were done, the two men walked back in, and Bruce raised the head of Peter's bed, allowing him to lie with his chest raised.

"The scans look okay, you do have a minor concussion but I'm not that worried about it. But Peter, your speed healing isn't working like it should because your immune system is so busy with this virus, so you'll stay here for tonight and we'll see how you are tomorrow. I don't really want to release you until your fevers gone, because we just don't know what effects it could have on your powers. And as much as I enjoy your company, I don't want to see you in one of my beds, so next time you feel sick you need to tell Tony, okay? You can't fight like this, you could have been seriously injured."

Peter's flushed cheeks grew brighter as he blushed, head lowering as he nodded.

"Yes, Mr Banner."

The man was surprisingly gentle for someone known for his rage, and Peter peeked up to Tony, who still looked mad.

"Are you gonna yell at me now? Cause my head already really hurts and I think I've learnt my lesson."

Tony took a deep breath and released it all in one go, shoulders sagging as if he were very tired. He took a seat on the edge of Peter's bed.

"No, I'm not going to yell. I really want to, but I won't." He snuck a glance at Bruce before carefully choosing his words.

"You made a mistake, and you have learnt from it, so…as long as you're okay, everything's fine."

Peter frowned, eyes narrowing in his bruised and swollen face. "Really?" He sounded doubtful.

Tony rolled his eyes and pulled Peter's blankets up, attempting to tuck him in.

"Yes. Just don't do anything like that ever again. If you're sick, or hurt, or too tired to go on a mission, you tell me. Got it?"

Peter nodded and sank gratefully into the pillows Tony placed behind him. He sat down in a chair next to the bed and closed his eyes, planning on sleeping the days stress's away.

And he knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help it.

"Good. Because you're grounded."

"What?!"


End file.
